Butterfly Girl

by Wayne Purdy

  “My hero,” I said. I know that Bob Nowak would have killed me if Hazel hadn’t been there. Sure, I was only there because I saved her first, but I was hardly in a position to be picking nits.

  “Seriously, thanks. It means a lot that you’re coming with me.”

  She nodded. “You’d do the same for me.”

  We both grew quiet. There were things we both wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. “Are you still going to work at Pandora’s?”

  “Regards told you?”

  “He said that you’ve enrolled in a private investigator’s course. It’s a good fit, Heck. You’re a natural. You never should have quit.”

  “My course is only a few months long. Once I graduate, I’ll get my private investigator’s license. I don’t think I’ll be making enough to quit Pandora’s, at least not at first. Besides, I feel like I owe Regards. I just can’t leave him high and dry.”

  “Heck, I think that’s what he wants. He’s the sort of man who needs to feel like he’s doing something to make the world a better place. Sure, he owns a strip club, and he makes a very good living from it, but I don’t think that that’s his calling, know what I mean?”

  I did know what she meant. “One thing I’ve learned about myself is that I missed the work. I miss knowing that I can make a difference. I know it sounds cheesy, but there are people who fall between the cracks. They deserve to have some sort of justice. I missed catching the bad guys. I can’t be a cop anymore, not with my eye, but I can still do some good.”

  “You’re right. That sounds cheesy.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I’m kidding, Heck It’s very noble.”

  “I made a lot of mistakes with Nowak. I very nearly got us both killed.”

  “But you didn’t,” she said. “You’re just rusty. The instincts are still good.”

  “Did you meet with Sandra’s parents?” I asked her, changing the subject. I found the compliment to be embarrassing.

  “And Katherine Chosuk,” Hazel confirmed. “She’s a remarkable woman. The Mackenzies pass on their thanks. They are still mourning, but at least their daughter’s killer has been caught. He won’t hurt anyone again.” She paused, thinking about his injuries. She caused them.

  “Hazel, you did the right thing.”

  “I know. It’s but its hard to think about.”

  I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder, giving her a consoling pat. We drove the rest of the way in silence. She was probably thinking about how close she came to dying, about leaving Jaimie without a mother, and how close she came to taking a life. Bob Nowak was alive, technically. His heart still beat, and his lungs still took in air, but that was about it. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Maybe his body was just an empty shell, and his soul had departed. I don’t know what I believed, but I hoped that his soul was still in there. I hoped that he knew what he had become, and that he was trapped within his own body. Nowak had mentioned something about karma while he held me at gun point. How delicious would it be for him to be trapped in his own body, confined to the same prison that he purported to save both Gracie, Sandra, and Tiff from?

  “This is it?” I said pulling Macy into a church parking lot. We pulled into a vacant space and made our way inside. There were a few people outside the front steps smoking cigarettes.

  “Mr. Collins?” One of the smokers said. He was a middle-aged man with shaggy salt and pepper hair tied into a loose ponytail. He wore black jeans faded to a dull grey at the knees, and a plaid flannel shirt tucked into his waistband. He wore no tie. I was always taught to dress your best for a funeral, whatever your best may be. I only owned one suit; a navy two piece that was a couple seasons out of fashion. It still looked presentable, and I was wearing it now. I took one look at the smoker and knew that he was wearing his best too. He stuck out a calloused hand which I shook. “Grant Telford. ‘Reenie was my ex.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I replied, trying to recall what Irene had told me about her ex-husband. He was an abusive drunk. He beat Irene and Gracie, and probably one of the reasons that Gracie started down the path she had chosen. I decided this wasn’t the time for it. Whatever his crimes, Grant Telford was here to see his ex-wife off. Who was I to derail that?

  “She tol’ me what you done for her. She tol’ me that you was the guy that caught m’boy’s killer. It weren’t right what he done to him.”

  “A lot of people let Gracie down,” I said. I saw a defensive frown spread across his face and decided to pre-empt any hurt feelings. “Including me,” I said truthfully. With that, I excused myself, and Hazel and I went inside.

  Irene Telford lay at rest in an inexpensive open casket. She was even skinnier than when I had met with her only a couple months earlier. The cancer had eaten her from the inside out, leaving only a dried husk. Hazel put her arm around me, and I felt comfort in her embrace. In her hands. The mortician had woven my war medal between Irene’s fingers like a rosary. So much for getting that back. “Mr. Collins?”

  I turned my head and saw the Reverend Geordie Reading approaching me. He clasped my upper arm and shook my hand in a manner that would brook no misinterpretation. He was grateful for my presence and this greeting was as close to a big, bear hug as he could get. “Reverend. Thanks for calling me.” I introduced him to Hazel, and they shook hands cordially.

  “I found your number in her possessions, and thought you’d like to know. You don’t know the comfort you gave a dying woman during her last days. She always regretted the relationship she had with Gracie. You gave her a chance to make that right.” I noticed that he called Gracie by her chosen name. It made me respect Geordie Reading. It can’t be easy for a man of god to accept a trans girl as she is. Reading left us at the casket to console a smattering of parishioners. We stood at the edge of the casket looking at Irene Telford.

  “Did you know her well?” Hazel asked.

  I shook my head. “Just met her once. I didn’t even like her really.”

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Why are we here?”

  I shrugged. “She could have done better for Gracie. She should have protected her and supported her, but despite all her failings, Irene Telford loved her daughter. I don’t doubt that. She deserved to know what happened to her. Irene Telford was a victim of her own choices, but she never had the luxury of good choices. She always had to choose between the lesser of two evils. Its hard to get ahead when the deck is stacked against you. She did the best she could with what she had. In the end, that’s the best any of us can hope for.

  “It makes you wonder,” Hazel said. “So many of us don’t take the time to tell our loved ones how we feel. We let the silence grow into something more, something uglier.” I didn’t know if she was talking about her estrangement with her family or someone else. We both left our thoughts unsaid.

  On the way home, she asked if we could make a detour. We stopped at a computer repair store. From our parking spot, we could see a man standing behind a counter, tapping away on customer’s laptop. The man smiled as he showed the customer the repairs were done. It was a nice smile.

  “Are we going in?” I asked.

  She shook her head. Her eyes were watery.

  “Why are we here?”

  “That’s him,” she said, her voice crackled.

  “Who?”

  “Raj Patel. The boy who raped me.”

  “Are we going in?”

  “I just wanted to see him. It seems like he’s doing alright.”

  “It does,” I said. We sat there for a few minutes, just watching this man go about his day. I don’t know what Hazel wanted or expected, or if she found it here, at a tiny computer repair shop in a strip mall parking lot.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  ◆◆◆

  The next day there was a knock at my door. It nearly sent Puppy into a fit. After Nowak had been carried away on a stretcher, I took Puppy to see Dr. Singal. He had no broken ribs but did have a tender bruise. I felt guilty about that. A part of o
ur deal was that I would keep him safe. I’d already let him down. Puppy didn’t seem to mind, but I tacitly promised to do better. I opened it and Zaki stood on the other side. He was a little out of breath. “That’s a hell of a climb. You’re going to need a Sherpa to help people up.”

  “Zaki, what are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “That depends,” I replied, holding open the door. “Are you here to arrest me?”

  He smiled. “I thought about it. Obstruction, break and enter, failure to comply, assaulting a peace officer, and god knows what else. But no, I come in peace. Can I get a beer?”

  “I don’t have any.” My fridge was so empty. The only food I even had in the apartment was Puppy’s kibble. It hadn’t gotten to a point where I would eat it, but it was close. He handed me a six of Stella.

  “Luckily, I come prepared. He pulled one from the cardboard box and mimed opening it. Catching the hint, I went to the kitchen and returned with an opener. I popped his cap and then opened one of my own. He took a long pull. I followed suit. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” I asked.

  He pointed sheepishly at my eyepatch. “We were partners. I should have had your back. You knew even back then that something wasn’t right. I chose to turn a blind eye.”

  “You were following orders,” I said.

  “I should have done better.” He took another drink from his bottle, draining it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up at that pace, so I took a more reasonable drink. “This wouldn’t have gotten solved without you,” he said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Definitely not. There was enough evidence against Cutler. We would have pinned it all on him.” He opened another bottle.

  “Until Nowak killed again.”

  “That’s true. He wasn’t going to stop. We checked into his past. We found other murders. Some at other bases where he was stationed. Some at places he was known to be vacationing near. We’re up to eight victims so far. He took a lot of photographs.”

  “He said there were more,” I offered. “I think he was a monster.”

  “And you took him off the board. I won’t forget that.” He took another long drink from his beer. “Word on the street is that you’re getting your PI license.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  He took another swig. “Well, you’ve got a friend in the department, if you need one.”

  “Good to know,” I said. He finished off his beer and placed the empty on the counter beside its fellow.

  “Thanks for the beer,” he said. We shook hands and then he left. It’s funny. I spent years, nearly a decade, hating Zaki Hosani. Now, it was washed away. Water under the bridge. Could an apology really have that much power?

  28

  Hector

  My shift at Pandora’s didn’t start until eight, but I decided to pop in early, see how things were going. It was Friday and there was a dental convention in town. It was expected to be a busy night. On the floor, I Could see Lexus talking to an elderly man I recognised as a regular. The old perv had a way of trying to coax free lap dances from the girls, while never trying to hide his long, leering gazes. The girls always humoured him because he would eventually pay up, and he was a generous tipper. I knew from my conversations that the man had never married, and now that he was retired, he had a pension and a modest savings that weren’t going to do anyone any good. He couldn’t take it with him, he was sure as hell going to enjoy it while he still could.

  Cinnamon was on stage dancing to Cardi B’s, “WAP.” The sparse crowd was cheering her on, and she encouraged them, wiggling her butt to further entice the applause. I saw Alice and asked for a water. She passed it over to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just hanging out,” I told her. “Is Regards here yet?”

  “Is he ever not here?” She asked. I laughed politely and then made my way back to his office. He was sitting at his desk, reading an inventory list. I rapped on his door and he looked up.

  “Heck!” He exclaimed. “Come in. Come in.” He gestured to the empty seat on the other side of his desk. I accepted the invitation and took a seat.

  “How are things looking for tonight? Any call outs?”

  “Not yet. And that’s a good thing. It’s going to be busy. I’ll need all hands-on deck.”

  “I’ve been meaning to thank you for letting me have all the time off lately. I needed it.”

  “I must say, you seem happier. You’ve always been so morose. I think you’ve found your calling.”

  “I appreciate that,” I told him. “I think a lot of it was just coming to terms with my injury. I never really accepted it. I let it become an excuse.”

  “None of us are perfect, Heck. I know I’m not. You were carrying that burden around for a long time. Now that you’ve put that girl to rest, maybe you can give up the ghost too?”

  I thought about that. Gracie had haunted me all these years. She represented my failure and so long as her murder was unsolved, that failure was given an almost corporeal existence. Now, I didn’t need to hold on to her. It was time to let her go. “I think you’re right, Regards.”

  Regards continued. “You two make a good team. She is a lot like you. There was always something holding her back, stopping her from living her best life.” I knew what he meant. Hazel’s stage name was Mariposa, she told me that it meant butterfly. That couldn’t be a coincidence. I didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but I knew that there was no such thing as coincidences. Hazel was a butterfly too and she’d just gotten her wings. I thought about what she said at the funeral, that people leave things unsaid until those quiet words become something repressive. There was something between us. I knew it. I think she knew it too. I decided I was going to tell her how I felt.

  I said goodbye to Regards and ran upstairs. Puppy seemed to feel the energy of the moment. He ran around in circles, barking excitedly. I had a quick shower, shaved and put on the fancy cologne that Cass bought me for Christmas last year. I stopped in the mirror and looked at my ravaged eye. I reached for the patch and then thought better of it. I pulled out a small box from a drawer in the vanity and opened it. It was my prosthetic eye. I rarely wore it. I found it uncomfortable and it didn’t suit me, but I put it in anyway. Hazel deserved me at my best, and the fake eye was the closest I could come to that. I put on a clean pair of khakis and a button-down shirt. I debated taking Puppy out for a quick pee, but he could wait. The sky opened, and a light rain sprinkled down, covering the ground in a light sheen.

  On my way to Hazel’s building, I stopped at a convenience store and picked up a bouquet of the saddest looking lilies you have ever seen, but they were the best ones available.

  I stopped across the street from her building. The drizzle picked up, turning into a downpour. I was just ready to step across the street when I saw the front door open. I saw Hazel right away. She was wearing a bright yellow slicker with matching Hunter boots. She looked up at the rain laughing. Then she pulled out an umbrella and Jaimie ran out beside her, taking her mother’s arm. She was wearing a matching raincoat. It was a hallmark moment, a photograph of a happy family. The sort that comes with a new picture frame.

  Then, Eddie stepped out. He was laughing too. He scooched under the umbrella and Hazel nudged closer to him, kissing him on the cheek. Hazel looked up and our eyes locked. She surveyed me in an instant, the neat clothes, the prosthetic, the stupid fucking flowers, and she smiled melancholically.

  I felt my stomach somersault. The three of them climbed into a waiting cab and then it pulled away. I looked at the flowers in their cellophane wrapper and scowled, as if this mess were somehow their fault. I threw them into the garbage can anyway. The stems were broken, and the coloured petals fell away, like the fragments of a shattered rainbow, its promise of a better day ruined. I walked back to Macy, my shoulders heaving, and grateful for the rain, because they hid my tear-stained cheeks.

  End

/>   Acknowledgement

  Writing is a solitary hobby. So much of it is spent alone, but not completely. This book could never have been finished without the help of my wife, Sue. She is a talented writer. I'm betting you will read something of hers soon. She's also the first eyes to read my manuscript and the first to critique it. Any mistakes found within are entirely her fault.

  I also had the help of two fantastic Beta readers. Jason Bennet read it when it was still just a document. He gave me some great insight. He still messages me, wanting more Eff Bomb!

  I met Ted Swanson through a Facebook page seeking Beta readers. I read his great manuscript, AND THE PORCHLIGHT STAYS ON, he read mine. His help was invaluable. I fear he got the short end of the stick on that deal.

  Thank you all.

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  About The Author

  Wayne Purdy

  Wayne Purdy is a transit operator by day and an aspiring writer when not behing the wheel of a bus. He is happily married to the love of his life, Sue, and together they have three children; Emerson, Wynn, and Devon. They are his magna opera.